Fire and Ice
by leaisnotonfire
Summary: She is fire and he is ice. They are completely different but still completely alike. When Amy returns from Algeria and meets her old friend Sherlock and his flat mate John, she replaces a Nobel Prize with adventures and excitement. Sherlock x OC


When people think of what geniuses do in their free time, they usually suppose they are sitting in some kind of secret laboratory, developing even more secret chemicals which will be used as weapons for possible upcoming nuclear wars. That might be correct in some cases- but _this_ red-haired genius was sitting in front of her computer in her flat watching the live stream of a police press conference.

"The body of Beth Davenport, Junior Minister for Transport, was found late last night on a building site in Greater London. Preliminary investigations suggest that this was suicide. We can confirm that this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Phillimore. In the light of this, these incidents are now being treated as linked. The investigation is ongoing but Detective Inspector Lestrade will take questions now," a woman explained.

"Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked?" Well, that was a good question. The woman sitting behind her computer screen chuckled at the thought of what Lestrade's answer might be. She had always liked him, but also pitied him for his job. He looked exactly like a man you'd consider to be a Detective Inspector and he surely was better than most people who worked at Scotland Yard.

"Well, they all took the same poison," he let out a _very_ competent sounding _um_, "they were all found in places they had no reason to be; none of them had shown any prior indication of…" He couldn't explain any further since the reporter whose question had been answered interrupted him.

"But you can't have serial suicides." The red-haired lady nodded at that, finding it amusing how even the reporters saw the lack of clues Lestrade seemed to have.

"Well, apparently you _can_."

"These three people, there's nothing that links them," another reporter asked.

"There's no link been found _yet_, but we're looking for it. There has to _be_ one." In that moment, everybody's mobile phones started beeping and the pressmen shared a confused look.

Sergeant Donovan risked a quick look at her phone, too, before announcing to simply ignore the texts.

"Just says, 'Wrong'," somebody said in surprise.

"Yeah, well, just ignore that. Okay, if there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Lestrade, I'm going to bring this session to an end." Donovan sounded annoyed, probably because she knew what was going on.

"But if they're suicides, what are you investigating?"

"As I say, these ... these suicides are _clearly_ linked. Um, it's an ... it's an unusual situation. We've got our best people investigating…" It didn't seem to be a lucky day for Lestrade- several beeps interrupted him again.

"Says, 'Wrong' again." Lestrade looked at Sally despairingly, who went on with the press conference, visibly annoyed.

"One more question."

"Is there any chance that these are murders, and if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?" _Serial killer._ This was enough for the woman, she turned off her computer and opened the scrapbook lying next to her. She had known it from the second the phones had received the texts. But those two words insured her that the texts hadn't just been sent to annoy a certain Detective Inspector. This case had definitely caught the attention of a rather intelligent consulting detective. And she couldn't wait to see him solve it.

"Can I go in now?," somebody whispered outside of the room, causing the person inside of the said room to roll her eyes and let out an annoyed groan.

"She usually listens to music over the speakers when she works- just knock and walk in when the music stops. However, if there's _no_ loud music, she probably listens over headphones or doesn't at all, which would mean that she has to concentrate- so no going in then," another voice explained.

"So, is she working right now?"

"_Just come in!_"

The door immediately opened and a short, dark haired woman stood in it. Behind her was Professor Green, who had just given some advice to her.

"Miss O'Connor, it is an honour to meet you. My name is Angelica Franklin and I am here for work experience. I am currently studying physics at Cambridge Un-," Angelica began to introduce herself but Miss O'Connor quickly took her feet from the desk in front of her and stood up, walked around it and shook her hand.

"It's just Amelia. No need for formalities." She winked, attempting to calm the newbie down but seemed to reach the exact opposite of that.

"Um, thank you, I guess, you can just call me, um, Angelica, I guess," she stuttered.

"How's work going, Amelia?," Professor Green asked to make the situation less awkward for Angelica Franklin.

"Oh, it's going great, really. The time I spent in the Sahara really helped me to focus and I've got some even greater results to work with now!" Her eyes were glowing as she said this. Nothing in this world could get her as excited as Astrophysics could. She could talk about it for a lifetime and still find something new to add to the conversation, and she didn't even see the boredom in other peoples' eyes.

"So, second one this year?" Professor Green grinned.

"You clearly overestimate me. But next year, definitely." Amelia laughed as if she had made some great joke, when in reality she was just being realistic.

"Ok, we don't want to disturb you any longer. See you, then."

"Bye!" She shut the door before Angelica could say goodbye, but she wanted to go on with her work badly and in situations like these she simply forgot being polite.

She walked back to her desk, whilst she gazed to her 'qualification wall', as she liked to call it. There where several diplomas, including the one for her doctorate, and a few pictures with some of her idols… and one of her and Bill Gates with duck faces. She wasn't even sure why _exactly_ it was hung there or why she had asked him to do that, however the photo went viral. To be honest, she didn't like Microsoft. But it was still _Bill Gates._

A few hours later, Amelia O'Connor was sitting in her flat polishing her beloved gun. It had saved her life not only one time. Everything seemed so familiar. When she closed her eyes, she could smell the tobacco and _the excitement_. She loved her current job to dead, but she missed the _adventures_. Never knowing where she was headed, what would happen and never knowing if she'd make it out alive. What sounded horrific to other people brought happiness closer to me. I needed this to feel alive.

She wanted to solve riddles. Everything that seemed to be left unquestioned or unanswered drove her crazy. That was probably one of the reasons why she was such a brilliant scientist. She was fully aware of the things she could and couldn't do with her brain but she wouldn't stop until she solved something.

The weapon in her hands reminded her of so many solved cases and riddles, she had to smile.

What she was also fully aware of was her weirdness. But in all honesty, she didn't care. This weirdness had gotten her where she was today.

Amelia couldn't wait any longer. She had to make this visit _right now._ She was scared and excited at the same time. She put on her old leather jacket as fast as she could and practically tied her shoes on her way downstairs.

A few minutes later she was walking upstairs again. There had been plenty of police officers, or whatever they were exactly, walking out so she had managed to sneak into 221B Bakerstreet. Just as she was about to open the door, she held back.

"Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?" Amelia smirked. She bet her doctorate that this was Lestrade. They had met quite a few times before she'd left for Algeria and she liked him. He wasn't too stupid, he was nice _and_ he was able to put up with Sherlock Holmes.

"You know him better than I do." This was a new voice. Probably the guy he shared the flat with, because they were talking about Sherlock and considering that he had just moved in and the guy didn't seem to know him that well, this was the only logical explanation. Amelia hadn't even thought about that for a second, it was clear from the beginning.

"I've known him for five years and no, I don't."

"So why do you put up with him?" Definitely the flat mate.

"Because I'm desperate, that's why." Lestrade walked to the door and Amelia immediately took a few steps back, she didn't want them to know that she had listened.

"And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think one day, if we're very, very _lucky_, he might even be a _good_ one." Her smile now took over her whole face and she was full of pride. Yes, Sherlock Holmes was a great man. And a good one. It took some people longer to notice that. He liked calling himself a sociopath, but he wasn't. Even if he didn't want to admit to that.

Lestrade opened the door and was clearly surprised.

"Amy! You're back? Wasn't it meant to be two years?"

"Nice to know that you're happy to have me back and you're obviously still underestimating me. You know I don't do average." They both laughed.

"It's good to see you." He placed a hand on her shoulder and Amy playfully punched his arm.

"Ouch! Didn't lose that, I see," he joked. They laughed again and Lestrade rubbed his arm- it had actually hurt.

"Well, you should go now, before your morons set fire to the house." Greg smirked and made his way out.

Although it was not necessary and John had already noticed the woman talking to Lestrade, Amy knocked- she didn't wait for an answer, though, and just walked straight in.

"I'm guessing he's not here, then?"

"Who?" John was more than surprised. _A woman? Sherlock Holmes? A bloody woman?_

"Sherlock Holmes, Captain Obvious."

"Oh, no, he, um, took a cab. Not sure where he went, though."

"Are you on a case? The one with the linked _suicides_?," she asked, concern showing on her face.

"Yes, that one. How'd you know?"

"Wasn't particularly difficult to find out. What was the police doing here, anyway?" Amy went to the couch and sat down.

"Drugs' bust."

"They didn't find anything." John was even more confused and Amelia looked even more concerned.

"No, they didn't."

"Did anything to do with the case happen? You don't have to explain anything. I kind of hacked into Scotland Yard. Know everything. What happened?"

"I don't want to be rude, but _who are you_?," John asked.

"Who are _you_?"

"Doctor John Watson, I live here." John felt the weird need to state his rank to justify living in a flat with Sherlock Holmes.

"Oh, we're throwing our titles at each other. Doctor Doctor Amelia Quinn O'Connor, very nice to meet you, Doctor John Watson." She had jumped up from the couch by that point and was now shaking his hand exaggeratedly, leaving John speechless again.

"So, this case."

"Right, the, um, case. Sherlock found the victim's suitcase and e-mail-address, we then located her phone, it was here at Baker Street. Then he took a cab to god-knows-where."

Doctor Doctor Amelia Quinn O'Connor nodded and walked to the computer.

"Let's re-locate this phone, shall we?" The clock on the website started spinning as the site searches for the phone again. A few moments later, it beeped triumphantly. John and Amy shared a look.

"We better hurry up."

Some minutes later Amy and John were in the back of a taxi, the laptop on John's lap, Amy phoning the police trying to get Lestrade.

"No, Detective Inspector Lestrade. I _need_ to speak to him. It's important. It's an emergency!" She almost screamed at the stupid person on the other side of the line.

"Er, left here, please. Left here," John gave the driver instructions.

The taxi was pulling away after they had arrived at what seemed to be the final location of the phone. The only problem: the map wasn't precise enough to indicate in which one of the identical buildings in front of the two the phone was.

"Let's check this one first," John suggested and they made their way to the chosen one.

* * *

Hey guys, thank you for reading :) This is my first English fanfic and my first Sherlock fanfic, so please _do_ throw insults or critism at me, I wanna get better. I really hope Amy doesn't come off as Mary-Sue-ish, she isn't :) And just to set records straight, I've always loved the name Amy (even before I started watching DW) so I named her Amy. At first, I wanted her to look like Amanda Seyfried, but I decided to choose Karen Gillan in the end, she just fit better. And about a day later I realised the reference, haha. Okay, that's it.

Lea out! :D


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